“Where are your dresses? And why did you hide your jewelry?” My sister-in-law was snooping through my wardrobe again without knocking, but this time, I was ready for her.
Arina glanced quickly at the clock. Five to six. Maria was due to show up any minute now.
Kicking off her shoes and tossing her purse onto the sofa, she headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge—only to find, as expected, nothing but a cold light and nearly empty shelves. After a full day sorting chaos in the warehouse’s accounting department, she had completely forgotten about food.
The doorbell rang. Arina took a deep breath, trying to brace herself.
“Oh, hello, my darling sister-in-law! I was just passing by and thought I’d drop in,” Maria’s cheerful voice rang out as she stepped into the hallway without waiting for an invitation.
“I have a name,” Arina said coldly. “And I just got back from work.”
“Oh, I won’t be long!” Maria waved her hand dismissively, slipping effortlessly into the living room. “Can you imagine, I have an interview tomorrow, and nothing to wear!”
Arina closed her eyes and silently started counting to ten.
“And what do you suggest?”
“Well, maybe I could check out your wardrobe?” Maria was already opening the closet doors. “You have so much, you wouldn’t even miss a blouse disappearing for a little while!”
Arina gave a short, dry laugh. She knew the routine by now. That ‘temporary’ would soon become ‘permanent.’ Although, Maria never really bothered with such subtleties—she just took things and left.
“Wow!” Masha exclaimed, pulling a silk blouse from the closet. “This is Chanel! Look, the price tag is still on… How much does this beauty cost?”
Arina remembered buying that blouse at the boutique, saving up for two months to afford it.
“Fifty thousand.”
Maria let out a low whistle.
“Does Kostik know you spend that kind of money on clothes?”
“I spend my own money,” Arina shot back. “And they’re not just clothes.”
Maria walked over to the vanity, fingers trailing over the jewelry.
“Hey, can I borrow these earrings? They’d go perfectly with the blouse!”
“No,” Arina firmly replied. “They’re a gift from my mother.”
“So stingy!” Maria pouted. “And by the way, that bottle of perfume I took last week is finished. Could you give me a new one?”
“That bottle cost twelve thousand.”
“Well, excuse me! How was I supposed to know? Everything here is so expensive,” Maria sniffed. “By the way, I noticed your little silver bracelet. Can I wear it?”
The front door slammed. Konstantin had come home from work.
“My favorite women!” he smiled, popping his head into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
“Your sister is here for my things again,” Arina said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Here we go again!” Maria rolled her eyes. “Kostik, tell your wife she should learn to share. Didn’t your mom teach you that when you were little?”
Arina looked at her husband, silently pleading for his support.
“Arish, come on, can’t you just let it go?” Konstantin shrugged. “My sister has an important interview tomorrow. Let her borrow some clothes.”
“Last time she ‘borrowed’ my mother’s brooch. She never returned it,” Arina said through gritted teeth.
“You’re exaggerating again,” her husband waved her off. “It was just a cheap brooch. You probably misplaced it yourself.”
“A handmade silver brooch isn’t cheap,” Arina said distinctly. “Maria, give it back.”
“I don’t have it,” Maria scoffed. “She’s making it all up, Kostik!”
“You know what?” Arina said slowly, looking straight at her husband. “If she doesn’t give me my things back, she’ll have to go to that interview in whatever she showed up in.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Konstantin winced. “You can see Maria has nothing. We didn’t grow up rich, and she just wants some nice things. Just give her what she asks for, it’s not going to make you poor!”
Arina realized it was time to put an end to this. The conversation had gone too far.
“I see you’ve already made up your minds,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and stepping toward the door. “Then there’s nothing left for me here. Enjoy your dinner however you like.”
Arina left the apartment, ignoring her husband’s calls after her. She needed air, some space to think. She wandered the evening city streets until midnight, reflecting on her marriage. By the time she returned home, she’d made a plan.
In the morning, once Konstantin left for work, Arina called her office and took the day off.
“Oh my God,” Arina sighed, throwing open the closet doors and pulling out dresses on hangers. “I spent two years building this collection, and now I’m saving it all in just one day.”
She methodically pulled out everything valuable from the closets: evening dresses, designer suits, and shoes from limited collections. Piece by piece, she packed everything neatly into suitcases.
When she finished with her clothes, Arina opened her dresser. The earrings her husband gave her for their anniversary, gold bracelets, a sapphire necklace—all went into a special jewelry box.
“First the clothes, now my jewelry,” Arina muttered as she gathered up antique figurines. “What’s next? The apartment?”
Vases, figurines, and other decorations were carefully wrapped in towels and packed into boxes. Everything Maria had ever shown an interest in disappeared from the shelves.
By lunchtime, three large suitcases and several boxes were lined up in the hallway. Arina called for a taxi.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, hugging the woman who opened the door. “Sorry for showing up out of the blue.”
Lyudmila Sergeevna glanced at the taxi outside, loaded with belongings.
“Arisha, what’s going on?” her eyes were filled with worry.
“It’s a long story,” Arina sighed. “Help me bring these things in, and then I’ll tell you everything.”
Without a word, her mother helped Arina carry the suitcases and boxes into the spare room. Arina took off her blazer and sat down at the kitchen table.
“Did you leave your husband?” Lyudmila Sergeevna asked bluntly. “But the apartment is yours.”
“No, Mom. I’m just saving what I worked so hard for,” Arina replied, and then told her mother the whole story about Maria’s raids and her husband’s inaction.
“Well, I never,” her mother shook her head. “But you haven’t actually solved the problem, my dear.”
“I know,” Arina nodded. “But right now, I need some room to maneuver.”
When she returned home, Arina walked through her now strangely empty apartment. The bare shelves stared back at her with silent reproach, but deep down she felt a strange sense of relief.
“My territory,” she said as she settled into an armchair with a cup of tea.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Maria was standing on the doorstep with her signature wide smile.
“Hey Arina! I was just passing by…”
“As usual,” Arina replied dryly, stepping aside.
“Oh, I just came from an interview,” Maria began rattling off as she walked into the apartment. “I’m so tired, and so hungry! Do you have anything to eat?”
“There’s something,” Arina nodded, heading to the kitchen.
While the hostess was heating up a store-bought casserole in the microwave, Maria, claiming she needed to “powder her nose,” disappeared into the depths of the apartment.
A minute later, an outraged scream echoed from the bedroom:
“Arish! Where did you put everything?!” Maria burst into the kitchen, her face twisted in anger. “Where are your dresses? And why did you hide your jewelry?”
Arina calmly moved the warmed casserole onto a plate.
“What are you talking about?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t pretend!” Maria raised her voice. “I saw your Chanel collection! And those brooches with the stones!”
“I don’t know anything about any brooches,” Arina shrugged, setting the plate on the table.
At that moment, the front door lock clicked. Konstantin appeared on the threshold, and behind him loomed the imposing figure of Tamara Pavlovna.
“Surprise!” Kostya grinned broadly. “Mom decided to come by for dinner!”
“How unexpected,” thought Arina with a smirk. “The whole clan has arrived.”
Tamara Pavlovna immediately took command. The hefty woman strode into the kitchen and looked disdainfully at the modest dinner spread.
“Is this all you’re feeding my son?” the mother-in-law shook her head. “Konstantin works so hard and you serve him casserole?”
“Mom, don’t start,” Kostya grimaced, avoiding his wife’s eyes.
Maria immediately rushed to her mother, grabbing her by the hand.
“Mom, do you know what she did?” Masha whispered—but loud enough for everyone to hear. “She hid everything! Yesterday there were clothes and jewelry everywhere, and today the closets are empty!”
Tamara Pavlovna slowly turned to her daughter-in-law. Her gaze was piercing.
“Is this true?” she said sharply.
“And what if it is?” Arina shrugged. “They’re my things. I have every right to handle them as I wish.”
“Your things?!” Maria snapped. “In Kostya’s family, everything has always been shared! Right, Mom?”
“Absolutely,” Tamara Pavlovna pursed her lips. “In our family, there’s never been this bourgeois ‘mine-versus-yours.’ We shared everything.”
Konstantin walked up to his wife and took her by the elbow.
“Arish, why did you do this?” there was a note of reproach in his voice. “You own three clothing stores! Can’t you spare a couple of dresses for Masha?”
“A couple?” Arina freed her arm. “Konstantin, your sister took almost half a million worth of things!”
“Oh, she’s exaggerating!” Maria waved dismissively. “So what if I took a few small things now and then?”
“Small things?” Arina crossed her arms. “A silver brooch for forty thousand, a designer dress for one twenty, perfume for twelve thousand—is that ‘small stuff’ to you?”
“Selfish!” spat Tamara Pavlovna. “It was clear from the start you’re not one of us! All rich people are the same—they cling to their possessions and can’t share!”
The storm was building. The mother-in-law waved her arms, recalling how generous her own mother was, always willing to share her last piece of bread. Maria sobbed, playing the victim. Konstantin lectured about family values.
Listening to this commotion, Arina felt a strange calm. It was as if all her doubts had vanished. She waited for a pause in the collective shouting.
“All of you must leave my home,” Arina said in an even voice. “Immediately.”
A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Tamara Pavlovna opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“What are you saying?!” Konstantin was the first to recover. “I’m your husband, this is our home together!”
“No, Kostya,” Arina shook her head. “This apartment belongs to me. I bought it before we got married.”
“You’re kicking out your husband’s own mother?” Tamara Pavlovna was gasping with outrage. “That’s unheard of!”
“Heartless!” Maria chimed in. “Kostya, how could you marry someone like her?”
“Arina, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Konstantin tried to take his wife by the shoulders. “We’re a family! Family, do you understand?”
Arina stepped back. She opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. She began to read aloud:
“Here is a list of things that have gone missing from my home over the last few months. Diamond earrings, eighty thousand rubles. A dress, forty-five thousand…”
“Masha, is that true?” Konstantin stared at his sister in shock.
Maria squealed, but her cheeks betrayed her as they flushed bright red:
“She’s making it all up!”
“The total amount stolen is four hundred and eighty-three thousand rubles. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police and file a report for theft.”
Tamara Pavlovna gasped:
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Want to test me?” Arina grabbed her phone.
Kostya packed his things in silence, avoiding her gaze. Maria sobbed, blaming Arina for everything. Tamara Pavlovna hissed curses and vowed to tell everyone what a heartless person Arina was. An hour later, Arina closed the door behind her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and husband.
Left alone, Arina slowly sank onto the sofa. The quiet wrapped around her, soothing and comforting.
“Maybe I really am a bad person,” she said into the emptiness. “But I won’t let anyone walk all over me anymore.”
Her phone buzzed with a message from Kostya: “I don’t understand how you could do this. We loved each other.”
Arina deleted the message without replying. She suddenly realized that what they had wasn’t real love. It was habit, it was convenience, but it wasn’t respect or love.